


Take a Chance

by GothicGirl_1331



Series: A Life and More [2]
Category: captain america movies
Genre: ABO, AU- Winter Soldier!Steve, Alpha!Bucky, I warned y’all so I don’t wanna hear any complaints about it in the comments, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Omega!Steve, and in the present in the story, there’s a lot of bad shit in the past, this is the ‘prequel’ to Promises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicGirl_1331/pseuds/GothicGirl_1331
Summary: Life is never easy or predictable, but not even a true Seer could have told him that THIS would be his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**It’s okay,** the blond took a slow breath. **Just a grocery store. No big deal.** Steve takes a glance to either side of the street before crossing, going in and picking up the bare necessities for the next two weeks; milk, eggs, bread, lunch meat, water. Bee-line to the express lane. His usual bi-weekly routine was interrupted, however, by an unforeseen road- er, aisle block.

The alpha he had bumped into was just slightly shorter than him, steadying him with quick, gentle hands, one at his elbow and the other his upper arm; loose, but there enough to keep him upright. He’s proud of himself for not flinching, but eyes the man warily as he pulls away. “Sorry.”

“‘S alright; shoulda been watching where I was going.” The alpha gives him a slight smile. “Enjoy your day.”

Steve barely gets out a ‘you too,’ before the other man walks away, righting his few groceries in his basket before heading to the fast checkout, paying, and then hoofing it the twelve blocks to his tiny flat. Annoyingly, he can’t seem to pull his mind from the stranger; he’d felt a lot of strength in those hands, a terribly, awfully familiar kind of strength alphas seemed to simply possess without true need of it, but rather than it being maliciously overplayed, it had simply lurked like a riptide deep under the surface; it was... strange, but almost-

 **Pleasant,** which he didn’t yet want to explore. Instead, he curled up by the small window, opening a mostly-filled notebook and adding this new memory to the plethora of mixed old and new ones, tracking his recovery and his exploration. Absently, he sketched the strange alpha’s eyes along the margin, frowning when he caught himself and shutting the book.

“No.” He shook his head softly. “No. Don’t need an alpha, don’t want an alpha.” He tossed the book to his nightstand and got up to take a shower, the hot water doing it’s best, but it couldn’t quite reach the chill that seemed to have settled in his bones. His left arm whirred softly as the plates shut to a avoid water damage, and he stood for a long time under the spray after he was clean, tracing the scars that marred him; his arm, he knew, had been ripped off in a fall, and the stump had gone septic, prompting immediate amputation and later replacement. There was several bullet wounds from displeased handlers, all to varying degrees of damage. Perfectly symmetrical scars cris-crossed his ribs, self-inflicted after they had forgotten to wipe him one night. They forgot a few times after that, too, but began to wipe him after every mission after he’d attempted to kill himself. That scar was the best healed, surprisingly; a thin white line on pale skin that went from the right side of his C4 vertebrae to the left side of his C5; he had almost succeeded, would have succeeded, if his handler, one of the only two remotely kind ones, hadn’t walked in and taken immediate action.

He steeled himself and pulled away from the memories, shutting the water off and fixing something to eat, and then going to bed. That night he actually dreamed, rather than having a night terror; of what, he couldn’t recall, but it must have been pleasant.

-

The park was almost empty, the only reason he even ventured out to it. Setting up perch in one of the expansive live oaks, he drew anything that caught his eye, stiffening when he saw a familiar redhead staring up at him from her casual position against the lowest bough. “Been meaning to find you.”

She almost effortlessly pulls herself to his level through the branches, straddling the spot a few feet in front of him. He watches her warily, but she holds her hands up, palms to him. **Peace.**

“Easy,” she spoke softly, as if afraid he’d bolt if she was louder. He wasn’t such a frightened creature, not now that he was free.

**Was he, though?**

“/What do you want?/“

“/To talk./“

“/I’m not going back./“

“/I wouldn’t let you even if that was why I was here./“ She gives him a withering look, and he has the feeling that it’s hardly the first time he’s gotten it from her. “/Even if you have ruined my chances of looking sexy in bikinis ever again./“

He snorts, and she relaxes slightly. “/Then why are you here? I don’t-/“ he shakes his head. “/I’m not their pet anymore. I’m not /anyone’s/ pet anymore./“ The growl in the words would have made even the most stoic of alphas shrink back, but the beta woman seemed unfazed.

“/This is not for /them/, cub./“ She pulled a thumb drive from her pocket, leaning over and gently setting it on the ring binding of his sketchbook. “/Think over it. This-/“ she paused, like the words needed to be phrased carefully. “/This could be your chance for redemption, and revenge./“

She was gone as soon as she’d appeared, and he stuffed the drive in his inside jacket pocket before he left, hurrying home. He had found a slightly older computer that he could work fairly easily and popped the drive into it, opening the file once it finished downloading.

“S.H.I.E.L.D Avengers Initiative...”


	2. 2

The waiting area was... eerily cliche in it’s design, with dingy green-grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and constant smell of stale cigarette smoke and burnt coffee. He kept his hood up and his head down, blocker patches in place over the glands on his neck and wrists, and waited. It felt like ages before another person entered from the opposite side of the room.

He looks up and meets the good eye of the alpha man standing there; he’s vaguely aware of who he is, from a mission that had only been partially wiped. Nicolas J. Fury stared back at him for a long time before giving a nearly imperceptible nod. “Captain Rogers.”

“I haven’t been a Captain for a long time.” He stands carefully, forcing himself to stay relaxed. “I was-“

“I know; she told me.” Fury spins a chair around and sits in it, his arms braced on the back as he studies Steve. “What brought you here?”

“I...” He sighs. “I’m a man out of my era. What I remember isn’t what’s real anymore, and what I experienced between then and now are... hard to live with when nothing else is there to fill the empty hours. I’m a weapon in the guise of a garden tool, and that’s... not working very well for me.” He swallows. “I just- need to make amends the best way I can. The only way I can.”

“By taking down the people who set it all into motion?” That one eye feels like it can scan every last iota of his being. He nods.

That answer doesn’t illicit any satisfaction or dissatisfaction in the alpha, and he nods after a long minute. “I’ll show you the facility and introduce you to your teammates.”

-

The facility, it turned out, was a large helicraft, about the length of an American football field. He followed Fury through the levels and gave a quiet nod and a quick handshake to the people he was introduced to, but nothing more than that; people weren’t his strongest point, at least not in the casual setting, and he didn’t feel prepared enough to talk to his new team face to face. Thor, Barton, and Stark were alphas, while Romanova and Dr. Banner were betas. The alphas seemed kind, but he still felt that almost instinctual fear, though in a greatly reduced twinge, and simply hoped it would pass on eventually once he was familiar with them.

After a few runs in the obstacle course on board, and a few sparring rounds with Romanova, he was sent to medical for a physical evaluation; thankfully, if unexpectedly, the doctor on staff was a warm-demeanor’d omega woman.

She took his vitals and talked idly to him while helping him fill out the paperwork, pausing when he came to the designation section. “You can have it kept on need-to-know clearance if you’d feel safer that way,” she gave him a meaningful look. “Those scent blocker patches only work for a max of six hours; there’s plenty of scents to jumble up with here, though.”

He swallowed and looked down at the last box on the form, shaking his head. “Hiding who I am is what put me in the situation I was in... Used to be they’d’ve thrown me out on my ass, but- I just don’t know if it’ll mean I’d be put somewhere else.”

Cho nodded slightly. “Then put down as “prefer not to disclose,” and we’ll put you down as the same in the system, okay? That way you don’t have to stress about keeping up an alpha’s appearance, and you won’t have to tell anyone you don’t trust. But,” she looked at him. “I’m going to have to create suppressants and birth control that can stand up to your metabolism. I’d prefer to start you on doses before your next cycle, if you know when it’s supposed to start?”

“Um...” he furrows his brow, trying to remember the last time he’d gone through a cycle. “I- I don’t know... I don’t even think I remember my last one...”

She hums softly, lips pursed. “We could try to indu-“

“/No!/“ he shakes his head violently, physically recoiling from the idea as the Russian slips past. “/Please/- anything but that-“

“Hey, hey- okay, okay; no inductions. I promise.” She holds her hands up, palms towards him. “It was just an idea, because I need to make some observations in order to make sure I mix the medication up properly, but we’ll wait for it to come on naturally, okay?” She sat down on the roller chair, facing him with her clipboard of notes. “In the meantime, I’m going to refer you to a therapist, and have you kept to light duty.”

-

Three weeks into his new ‘job,’ Steve woke around two in the morning with awful cramping, feeling too hot for his skin; he needed to call Dr. Cho, knew that it would be easier to have a professional opinion, but he couldn’t find the stupid Stark phone he’d been given. After a fruitless twenty minutes, catalogued by his alarm clock, he forced himself out of bed and to the shower, then the closest to dress, and took off like a rocket to the closest 24-hour store, set on finding something that might help.

Wandering through the aisles provided very little help, though, most of the products leaving him far more confused about even the simplest of pain medications to get, never mind the looks he was beginning to get; had that alpha been there the whole time, or just arrived? He grabbed a few boxes of heavy-strength heat cramp medication and hurried away to a register, painfully aware of his own scent steadily changing. The thirteen block walk back to his apartment had never seemed so daunting, and as he rushed, he ran into someone- as told by the “ooh-“ they let out when they hit the ground with him on top of them- and almost panicked, stuttering out apologies and offering his hand to them.

“It’s alright, no need to be so worked up-“ the voice that delivered the words was very male, very gentle, and when Steve looked at him, he recognized the alpha from the grocery store. He went to say something when the other man’s eyes locked on something behind him, and he whispered quietly. “Play along with me and I’ll walk you home; there’s someone following you.”

He tensed as Bucky’s arm settled around his middle, the alpha giving a loud, happy exclamation at his “mate” “finally arriving from work,” leading him away from the bar after calling out to his friends that he was headed home; once the stalker had disappeared from sight, at the end of Steve’s block, the other man let go of him, looking at him worriedly. “Get on inside, okay? You’re pretty close to the cusp from how you look and smell, it’s not safe to be out right now.”

He nodded, taking a couple shaky steps before he stopped and looked at the alpha. “I-“

“You’re welcome,” the brunet gave him a slight smile. “But you need to go inside now, sweetheart; do you need help?”

He waited a long while before he could answer, feeling like his tongue was stuck to his mouth. “I-I don’t know- it’s really- a really difficult situation-“

“Do you /want/ help, then?” There was what looked like genuine concern in the alpa’s eyes. “It’s your call, but you don’t look too good right now.”

He could feel the heat growing even worse, the tiniest of sounds escaping him, and that seemed to make up Bucky’s mind, because he moved in and wrapped his arms around the omega gently. “C’mon, okay? I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman, but we gotta get you inside first.” He helps him up to his unit and inside, and the alarm bells and his instincts are waging hellfire against each other, but he can’t pull away from the other; the warm body and scent of birch and leather put his anxiety to bed slowly as Bucky laid him down and turned the fan on, as well as the window cooler, sitting down on the floor by his head and giving him three of the pills with water. “I’ll be right here all night; you just tell me what you need, yeah?”

“O-Okay-“ he closes his eyes, doing his best to ignore it as slick began to seep out of him and into his underwear, squirming a bit. As he drifts off, it’s to a stranger stroking his hair and a soothing scent in his nose.

-

It’s nearly another week before his cycle finally ends; the rational part of his brain is absolutely horrified that he let a strange alpha (albeit a kind, attractive, respectful alpha,) into his home while he had been so out of it, but the entire week, Bucky had been exactly as he said he would: a perfect gentleman. He hadn’t tried to force himself on the omega, nor behaved inappropriately. He’d been quite the opposite to what Steve was used to.

It was... very unusual for him to wake up to someone else in any capacity, but even less so to wake up to someone who was looking after him; he couldn’t handle more than small points of contact, would shy away when it felt like too much, but when Bucky simply laid his arm out on the bed and let the omega make the moves, he’d hesitantly edged closer until he had rather effectively taken over his shoulder as a pillow, trembling the entire time from the sheer need boiling through him, held in check, though barely.

He’s far more embarrassed than anything, he finds after a while, not quite ready to face Bucky, but he can’t pretend to be asleep forever.

“Steve..? Are you awake?” The gentle voice sounded like honey to him, and he gave a soft protesting sound, which got a slight laugh from Bucky. “Hey, c’mon; go get in the shower and I’ll make breakfast, okay? Then we’ll get your bedsheets changed.”

“‘Kay-“ he mumbles, pushing himself up slowly; he was starting to level out, but he felt a bit physically sick still. “‘M not sure what I got, but- go ham. You can shower, too, if you need ta.” He couldn’t quite look at the alpha as he gathered up his clothes and nearly bolted to the bathroom, turning the water as hot as it would go.

When he stepped out nearly an hour later, scrubbed raw and dressed in some lounging clothes, there was the smell of frying eggs and coffee bleeding through the apartment. He stripped the linens from his bed and replaced them with fresh ones before he padded quietly to the kitchen, absolutely petulant with himself for acting like a frightened fox in his own damn home, skittish and slinking along the edges. Bucky was standing at the stove, turning something over in the pan while the coffee maker percolated away on the counter.

“You don’t gotta act like I’m gonna bite ya, Steve; this is your house, not mine.” The warm, teasing tone was obviously meant to put him at ease, but it only worked a little bit. He ducked his head slightly as he took a seat at the short breakfast bar, watching him curiously. “You’ll have to forgive my... well-“

“You’re not used to someone helping you for the sake of helping you, are ya?” The brunet’s silvery eyes lingered a little too closely on his face. “You’re used to doing things on your own.”

He nods softly, pressing his lips together in a line. “I- guess you could put it like that... it’s not really accurate or inaccurate.”

“Mm-hm.” He turned the burner off and slid two eggs onto a plate with bacon and toast, passing it to Steve as he picked up the other. “Well, you ain’t gotta tell me anything about it if you don’t wanna; are you feeling okay? Nothin’ feelin’ weird or wrong?”

He shakes his head, the tags around his neck clinking together softly under his shirt. “‘M as fine as can be, I guess... I haven’t really-“ he stops as the blood rushes up, shaking his head. “Where I’m from, being a male omega wasn’t the best way to turn out. I guess I figured I’d been through enough that I didn’t have to worry about it anymore, but... I was wrong.”

Something in the other man’s face softened just a little, and he nodded quietly, grabbing a couple mugs from the rack to pour out two cups of coffee, passing one to Steve, who immediately got up to retrieve the vanilla creamer from the fridge.

“You won’t have to worry about that kind of thing here,” Bucky says it so firmly and plainly that Steve almost could have believed there was some kind of law that allowed them to filter out the evil people in the world. “I don’t mean that like a “oh that never happens here,” but you won’t have to worry about it; this is a safe neighborhood.”

“And what does that mean if something does happen..?” He looks at him then. “Is it still safe?”

“It will be, because if anyone touches you, they’ll have to deal with me.” He takes a sip of his cup as he passes one to the omega, giving him a warm smile. “Assuming you leave me anything to deal with, that is.”


	3. 3

Bucky left not long after the breakfast dishes had been washed and put to dry, and it wasn’t until Steve was back in his room to gather up the dirty laundry that he found a little note scrawled on a notepad on the nightstand.

 

‘Call me sometime? -Buck’

He stared at the phone number under it, chewing his lip for a long moment. He picked the note up and folded it, then tucked it into the picture frame on the dresser, effectively covering part of the picture of the Frisco Bay with it, then went to drop his laundry in the machine.

The note presided over his daily life in his room for nearly a week and a half before he finally got the nerve up to dial it, perched on the edge of his bed like a bird about to take off. It rang for about five bells before the line connected.

“Hello-?“

“Is this Bucky-?” He bit the inside of his cheek hard. “It’s Steve.”

“Steve- you doin’ alright? Nobody’s been creepin’ on ya, have they?” He could hear the bustle of what sounded like a shipping center in the background of the call, and he winced at having interrupted the other’s work day. 

“No, nobody’s been peeping at me or anything-“ he swallows hard. “I uh- y-you left that note with your number here, I just-“

There’s a short bout of laughter that almost sounds nervous. “Oh, that- I uh, I didn’t wanna overwhelm ya or nothin’, given the circumstances, but uh- I’m glad you called me.” There’s what sounds like a door shutting, and then the call is much clearer.

“I was-was wondering if you might wanna- maybe go get some lunch?” He glances at his alarm clock quickly. “If you haven’t taken yours already?”

“I’d like that, actually; I’m about to clock out. Where do you wanna meet, honey?”

The gears in his head came to a grinding halt, and he scrambled for something to say. “I saw a sandwich place a few blocks away from Chelsea Market-? It looked pretty neat, I think it was called Migras-“

“Sounds perfect; you wanna meet there, or ride with me?”

“Or you could ride with me?” He looks at the keys to his motorcycle, biting his lip. “You wearing a jacket?”

“A jacket? In /August/?” His voice was incredulous. “What kinda transportation are you on, sweetheart?”

“A bike.” He sing-songs as he snatches the keys up off his nightstand. “I think you’ll be quite impressed.”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” He could bear the smile on the other’s face. “I work at the Brooklyn docks, I’ll wait for you on the road in front of the wharf.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He grins, hanging up before he pulled his leather riding jacket on, heading out to his bike; she was a gorgeous rebuild of a model similar to the one he’d had in the war. Setting the helmet under the seat in the storage compartment before he turned her over and slid on, he took off down the main thoroughfare to Brooklyn and then cut towards the docks, rolling to a slow stop in front of the alpha with a smile; Bucky looked for a split second like he’d just opened up the door to a long-pushed down turn-on, but the hint of it was gone just as fast as it came.

“You said a /bike/, not a /beast/!” He laughed. “You’d better have helmets for us both.”

“I don’t need a helmet, ‘m hard-headed as it is!” He chuckles and throws the kickstand out so he can slide off to retrieve the helmet, tossing it to Bucky as he slid back on. “Hop on, unless you’re getting cold feet all of a sudden~”

“Oh, you’re a punk, ain’tcha?” He smiles, pulling it on before he settled on the second seat behind Steve, looping his arms around his waist. “Don’t go throwin’ me off on a corner, alright, darlin’?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He fires her up again and takes off, weaving through the traffic to the market until he found the sandwich shop again, parking in the alley between the shop and the building next to it, stowing everything away before leading Bucky up to the door and inside. The line at the counter is short, and Steve takes his Reuben, Sprite, and fries to a booth on the window wall, Bucky sitting across from him.

“So, you found this place how?” The brunet smiles at him.

“You’d think I was nuts if I told ya,” he laughs slightly, pointing up to a faded black and white photo. “You see that scrawny little fella next to the owners in that picture from opening day?”

Bucky gets up and goes over to examine the photo, and Steve watches with bated breath as the alpha’s face changes from confusion to disbelief to incredulousness, and he turned to Steve, pointing at the photograph. “That’s-?”

He nods. “Yeah; that’s me.”

Bucky shakes his head, laughing in disbelief. “You’d be like- a wrinkly old man by now. There’s no way that that’s you.”

His companion raises an eyebrow. “You want a side by side?” He slips out of his seat and plants his face directly beside his photo, and the sheer shock on Bucky’s face as he finally could see every detail shared between that ancient picture and the real flesh and blood in front of him was almost comical.

He reaches up and quietly pushes the aloha’s lower jaw back where it had been a few seconds ago, looking up at him. “It’s a long story to get into, and more suited to a different day and setting, but I can see the questions forming, if you wanna sit back down..?”

Bucky nods slightly, still peeking between the photo and the man. “Guess you hit a growth spurt between then and now.”

Steve laughs, pulling him by the cuff back to their table. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.” He sits down and sighs, taking a drink of his soda. “Feel free to start firing off at any time.”

“That photo is from nineteen-twenty-nine.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re-?”

“Technically a centenarian if you count /all/ my time on this earth. But I’m actually twenty-nine.”

He nods, taking a slow breath. “Alright. That’s- a paradox if I ever heard one. How old were you when that was taken?”

“I think I was ten,” he nibbles on a fry. “My ma was the nurse to Mister Migras’ wife when she caught TB; only one my ma ever managed to save from the sickness, but that was because Missus Migras wasn’t in the ward like the rest of them. I painted the walls and some of the murals for a whopping ten dollars the summer they opened, and I used it to pay rent for my ma and I’s apartment for the summer and part of the fall.”

There’s a moment of silence as Bucky decides what to ask next and Steve takes the chance to dig into his sandwich.

“What happened after that photo was taken?”

He swallows the bite in his mouth and takes a sip of sprite. “To which one in it?”

“You; the shop’s self-explanatory.” He smiles slightly.

“Well- I got real sick that winter. Survived it, Gods know how, but I did. Ma died when I was eighteen, and I kinda- bounced around for a bit. Ended up meeting a guy that helped me get into the Army as part of the SSR’s attempt to create a unit of super soldiers.” He picks at the edge of the deli paper under his sandwich. “I was the only one they gave the juice to; some Nazi bastard killed the head of the project- my friend who helped me enlist, Dr. Erskine- and tried to bolt with the remaining vials of serum. Didn’t work out so well for him, but we never did recover the serum.”

“And.... that culminates to us having lunch here?” Bucky has one eyebrow in his hairline, confusion mingling with disbelief.

“Eventually,” he laughs dryly. “They paraded me around with the USO like a show pony for six months because an omega is too “soft” to be on the front lines of a battle, and then I was sent to the European theatre to boost morale. Did my show, got heckled and cat-called off the stage, couple propositions and proposals...” He snickers. “Buncha meatheads, but I miss the 107th. Unit doesn’t exist anymore.”

“How’s a guy from the Silent Generation end up here in the twenty-first century?”

He sets his jaw slightly, thinking carefully before he supplied an answer.

“A lot of pretty nasty stuff, to be honest. Stuff that I’ll keep close to my chest for right now. Doesn’t make for a very lighthearted conversation.”

The alpha nodded understandingly, finally digging into his turkey club. “If you ever need someone to talk it all out at- I’m not a guy sucked out of his life, but I can understand feeling out of place, to an extent. Been told I’m a good listener, too, but jury’s still out on that one.”

Steve cracks a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “Well, you’re doing just fine so far.”

They moved on to lighter conversation, and after he’d paid for their meals, he took Bucky back to the wharf, taking the helmet from him. “I’ll see you later-?”

“Yeah,” the smile he gets is probably the best one he’d seen from him yet. “But do me a favor?”

“Mm?”

“Get yourself a helmet, punk. ‘M not gonna be the only one wearing one on your bike, doesn’t matter if you’re some super soldier or not.” Bucky hands him the helmet back, gently knocking his shoulder. “I’ll come around after I get off, maybe we could talk more?”

“It’s your turn to do some talking, pal,” he laughs. “Get back to work ‘fore I get yelled at by your foreman.”

“‘M goin, I’m goin’-“ the alpha grinned, taking a few steps backwards. “Bye, Stevie!”

He waved and pulled the helmet on, merging into traffic and headed towards Cho’s clinic.

-

“So- I believe you when you say that you didn’t do anything with this guy-“

Steve sighs, closing his eyes. “Doc-“

“I’m not gonna lecture you! Hell, just knowing /half/ the shit you’ve gone through, I don’t think I know /anyone/ who’d make the choice to ask a stranger for help, let alone a strange alpha-“

He bites his lip, looking down. “I didn’t- /exactly/ ask for him to help-“ he picks at the edge of his shirt. “I woke up about two in the morning last Sunday just about totally gone, and all I really could think to do was go get some basics from the drugstore. He walked me home cause some guy from the drugstore started following me, and-“ he sighs. “He actually asked /me/ if I wanted help. I don’t know why I let him in my house, but he didn’t try anything; just sat by the bed and looked after me. I think I said more than a few embarrassing things, honestly, but he never-“

“Steve,” She takes his hands, squeezing gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about trying to justify or explain it, alright? You’re a grown man, you can decide who you want to help you during heats, it doesn’t matter if you ask an alpha, a beta, another omega, or if they ask you if you want their help; you are the one who gets to make the final choice. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

He nods after a long moment, taking a slow breath. “Okay.”

She smiles softly and pats his shoulder, leaning back in her rolling chair. “So- I’ve looked at your prior medical records, and compared them to what I’ve got. I need you to give me a general rundown of your symptoms from that week, and then I’m going to start giving you a moderate dose of suppressants to start with, about a three month probationary period, and a heavy dose birth control implant that should last two years, but we’ll have to check bimonthly and see how fast your body breaks it down.”

He nods, biting his lip. “Thanks, doc.”

“Of course.” She smiles at him. “Is there anything else?”

“Not past when the next time I gotta come in is.” He shakes his head, watching as she readied the implant before coming over and giving him the shot and handed him a script for the suppressants.

“It’ll be in November, I’ll email you the exact date when I can get it scheduled.” She smiles, pointing at him faux-sternly. “That doesn’t mean skip medical after missions or fights, though. Understood, soldier?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” he laughs softly, standing. “I’ll make sure to pop in. Or Natalia’ll drag me in if I can’t walk.”

She laughs him out of the office with a friendly wave, and he heads on home, not quite happy, but in a far better mood today than he had been in ages.


	4. 4

Bucky came around a little past six, bearing a couple pizzas and a twelve pack of Fresca; Steve let’s him in and directs him to the living room couch, where Bucky drops down, setting the sodas vertically on the ground and the pizzas on the table as the other got glasses of ice.

“Sorry to change up on ya,” Steve chews his cheek. “I had PT today and it put a wrench in things.”

“Ain’t gotta explain anything to me, doll.” The alpha smiles, passing him a can of soda. “What are we watching?”

“Something my friend Tony gave me; I think it’s a scary movie?” He hands him a glass and pops the top on the can, pouring it out into his own before taking a sip. By the time the movie’s credits rolled around, he was half sprawled out on his end of the couch, looking over at Bucky and snickering. “I... don’t know what the fuck to make of that.”

Bucky snorts, laughing. “Yeah, ah- the movie’s /called/ Scary Movie, it’s a parody. More for laughs than anything else.”

“Huh. Interesting take.” He nods. “Well- I think I have some more movies, if you want to stick around..?”

*

By the time they made it through Steve’s meager movie collection, it was nearing two in the morning; Steve was laid out on the couch with his head on Bucky’s hip, while Bucky was slouched low in his seat, heels propped on the table. The omega looked far too peaceful to risk waking, but the couch wasn’t going to be very forgiving if he fell asleep in such a strange position. Carefully, he slipped out from under Steve and then lifted him from the couch, carrying him to his room to get him put to bed.

He laid him down on the bed and tugged the sheet over him, running his fingers gently through his hair before he turned out the light and shut the door, cleaning up and locking the door behind him as he let himself out, sending a text for Steve to read in the morning.

As he walked to his loft, he couldn’t put the blond out of his mind; he just found him... captivating’s too pretentious... interesting doesn’t do him justice... alluring just sounds too sexual for someone he’s not pursuing... He’s simply... Mysterious. Provocative but not base or vulgar.

Steve was something, he knew that much, at least; for only being twenty-nine, which seemed sprightly against his own forty years, the omega was of sterner stuff than most alphas he knew, more akin to the discipline his grandparents had held. Even beyond that, though, there just seemed to be this innate chord the blond struck in him, some hidden key that pulled forth every basic instinct he had from the depths of his hindbrain; he wanted to provide for him, to protect him, take care of him, things he’s certain few others had done for him here lately.

He pushed the door open to his apartment with a sigh, headed straight to his room to flop face first on the bed; let tomorrow worry about it all, he was fucking tired and going to bed. He rolled over and kicked his boots off, followed by his belt and jeans before he slid under the sheet, his last thought an idle one about what it’d be like to wake up to someone other than his hermit crab.

The next morning dawns grey and wet, and Bucky could already tell it was going to be an unpleasant day; he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, then to dress and start the coffee maker while he took his phone off the charger and scrolled through his notifications, smiling as Steve’s name popped up.

‘Your gentlemanly nature knows no bounds, does it? :)’

‘Not when it comes to someone as lovely as you.’

Was that too forward? Would Steve think he was creepy for it? Fuck, why did he send that?

‘Maybe next time you could stay? It’s dangerous to leave so late in the night.’

‘If it gives you a little peace of mind, I will.’ He bites his lip, staring at the screen before beginning to type again.

 

‘Do you want to go out sometime? Like on a date?’

Steve stares at the message, eyes wide; he’s made by both Natasha and Thor as soon as his expression changes, and they both close in on either side of him, peering at the screen.

“Do you two have no concept of /privacy/-?” He grumbles, face heating steadily.

“I think you should say yes,” Thor grins at him. “This is the mortal alpha who watched over you, yes?”

“His name is James, and yes, he is.” Natasha looked up at Steve. “Say yes, you blockhead; you practically drool over him every time you think about him, now’s your chance.”

He bites his cheek, shaking just slightly as he thought about it. “I-I don’t know-“

His friends stopped and looked at him, the three of them quiet for a short while before anyone spoke again.

“I’m... a little bit scared to say yes, even though I know he’s a good man...” he drops his head to his knees. “I want to say yes but I’m scared of a side of him that might not even exist.”

Thor and Natasha shared a look that seemed to be equally sad and angry, both placing a hand on his back to soothe him. “It will be good for you to have a fun night, Steven; if he does turn out to have a bad side, Natasha and I will step in to help you.”

“/I already did a deep background check on him,/“ Natasha smiles at him. “/He’s got exactly one charge on his record, for beating the shit out of his father, who was a real deal shitbshow of an alpha./ I think you’ll be fine, but we’re both just a call away.”

He nods slightly, sighing. “/I’m so ready to be past all of this shit, you know/?”

“/I know; you have to have a new experience to help yourself heal./“

He stares at the message for a little longer before typing out his answer, feeling a spike in anxiety as he sent it.

~

The clock ticked down to six-thirty like its gears and screws were full of wet sand, and Steve gave a frustrated sigh as he stared at his closet; nothing looked right for a date, and for the first time, he found himself a bit regretful of not taking the time to catch up on what looked good these days. He finally pulled a pair of black khakis and a deep green shirt from the confines of his lesser used clothes and finished drying the remnants of his shower from his hair, spending longer than he’d ever admit fretting over his hair and finishing the fine details of his grooming in the bathroom mirror before he went to wait in the living room.

Just after the big hand swept over the thirty minute mark, there was knock at the door; he tried to keep his nervousness to a minimum as he peeked through the spy hole, taking a breath before he opened it, smiling at Bucky.

“Hey,” the alpha smiles back at him, almost shyly offering a handful of fresh flowers to him. “I thought you might like these.”

Steve took them gently, a faint color collecting on his cheeks. “Let me put them in some water and then we can go.”

They took the long route to get to a small shop that Bucky swore up and down had the best hot pot in China Town, but Steve felt more inclined to believe the alpha insisted on the long metro ride to have an excuse to be so close to him.

~~_He couldn’t say that he minded, though._ ~~

The shop was quiet for a Friday night, but Steve found that he liked it quite enough, and almost immediately he put his back to the wall behind their table, scanning the exits, entrances, windows, staff, and other patrons, making escape plans just in case.

Bucky sat down across from him and gave him a soft smile. “Done planning your escape? I promise I’m not a bad date.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Trust me, it’s not you I’m planning to run from.”

“I think between the two of us, the only ones running will be whoever tries to get at you.” Bucky traces the tip of his shoe along the inside of Steve’s ankle, making his pulse jump slightly.

“I appreciate your... initiative to keep me safe,” he smiles shyly. “But... trust me, it’s way better to run away from the people I’m scared of.” He grabs the menu and opens it, looking it over curiously. “What exactly _is_ a hot pot, by the way?”

~

By the end of their date, they’d drank an entire bottle of sake and finished an entire mild hot pot; Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a fun night, or found such enjoyment in another person’s company. He went halves on the bill with Bucky, leaving a nice tip for their server before they left the shop and started walking a bit aimlessly, bumping against each other every now and then. When they finally made it to the subway, the car they stepped onto was deserted, and they took the chance to tuck themselves into a hidden away booth in the corner, the blond curling up against his companion’s side under his arm and drifting the fine line of sleeping and waking worlds.

Walking through the door of his apartment turned into heavy, slow making out on the living room couch; his underwear grew tight and wet as Bucky dragged his sharp canines across the gland at his neck, soothing the scrape with possessive kisses.

He pulled back when the omega tensed up, stroking his face and kissing him sweetly until he’d calmed, guiding him to lie down with him for a little while.

“I’m s-“

“Don’t be sorry, sweet thing,” Bucky’s voice was quiet and steady, working like a sort of charm with the slow circles he was rubbing into his back. “We ain’t gotta do anything too fast, I don’t mind waiting on ya.”

Steve burrowed his face against the alpha’s shoulder and sank against his body, trembling faintly. “Stay with me tonight..?”

“Of course, Stevie.” He smiles at him sweetly, and when the omega begins up nod off, he moves them to Steve’s bed, holding his hand loosely as he fell asleep beside him.


End file.
